Steal My Heart
by Rhiannyx
Summary: Everyone has secrets...but some have a way of getting out. Perhaps a dark, handsome stranger isn't the best person to tell them to.
1. Black Sky At Night

**Disclaimer: I own nothing...if I did, I'd be filthy rich and I would have created a machine to transport me to Tamriel!  
Reviews are very welcome - I always want to know how to get better, let's face it, no one's perfect...unless you're Brynjolf.**

* * *

Night_ was falling across Valenwood. As the ebony blanket fell on Tamriel, the shrouded figure began to move. It darted through the dimly lit passages, unsheathing as it went a wicked dagger, coated in a shining liquid. One drop..._

_The Dunmer maid turned to her Bosmer mistress, her eyes wide with horror. The nod of her head conveyed the message: it was time. The Bosmer got quickly to her feet, pulling the sleeping baby in her arms even closer to her chest. The dark elf moved towards the pile of rugs in a corner of the room and lifted them up, revealing the hidden trapdoor beneath it. As the Bosmer jumped down into the small hole below, footsteps outside grew louder. _

_Just as the trapdoor closed and the rugs fell over it, a dark figure appeared in the doorway. The wood elf watched through a crack in the bottom of the trapdoor, praying that the sleeping baby girl wouldn't wake and give them away. The individual entered the room, it raised its weapon. "Where is Nivera?" The man's voice was harsh and rasping._

"_She's not here." The Dunmer maid replied, her voice trembling. The man drew closer to her. _

"_I asked: where is Nivera?"_

"_And I replied: she's not here."_

_With one swift motion, the dagger danced in the air and then sliced the Dunmer's body. As she fell, blood oozing from her chest, Nivera stifled a gasp._

_The man kicked her body away and scanned the room. He thrust aside cupboards and drawers. Then, his eyes fell on the rugs. He stepped towards it._

_The baby opened her eyes._

* * *

Her eyes darted about, scanning her surroundings for any sign of movement. Her elven feet were silent as she sprinted across the wild tundra of Eastmarch. The slightest sound – a twig snapping or snow crunching – made her stop, her pointed ears pricking up. Were they still following her?

Night had entwined its deathly hands around Skyrim, but it was no match for her skilled eyesight. A wolf on a mountainside a mile away would be prey to her vision.

The bitter chill began to lift slightly. The snow-strewn paths melted into grass and flowers. But she wasn't far away enough yet...

* * *

"Look at this dump." A Nord male said, slumping onto a seat next to a Breton. He picked up a flagon then grimaced and put it down as he saw a skeever dropping in it.

"There's nuffin' we can do, Brynjolf. I told ya, it's a curse." The Breton was counting out a few septims to hand to the barman, but it looked like he was having a hard time finding enough.

"It's not a curse. Just plain old bad luck." Said an Imperial female, tossing a handful of coins at the Breton.

"This place stinks of skeevers...and so do we." A Redguard female recoiled as the barman swept aside what looked like a rotting rat carcass.

"This can't last forever." The one called Brynjolf got to his feet.

* * *

Suddenly, the elf stopped. Distant, yet distinct, she could hear the sound of a horde on the hunt. They were getting closer...

She leapt up the nearest tree, a cornered creature seeking refuge in its dark branches. The wood barely even moved as she placed her feet against it. And she waited.

Waited...

Then she saw them. They moved as one, a great tsunami of hunters spewing across the land.

There was nothing left. She would have to run. Between the treetops she darted, her feet barely touching the branches before she leapt on. But then, she timed a jump wrong, and she landed dangerously near the edge of one of the branches, losing her foothold. Her ankle seared, but before she could do more than yelp in pain, she felt the twig snap. The ground flew towards her. Nimbly, she slid into a roll as she landed, but as she straightened up, listening, she heard it.

"SHE'S IN THE WOODS!"

The small figure sprinted away, wincing through the blinding pain in her foot. The darkness was consuming. It enveloped her in an impenetrable cover over her eyes. Suddenly, as she cast her terrified gaze over her shoulder, she felt herself collide with something hard. The force knocked the breath out of her, and the last thing she saw was a bright light over her, before the obsidian blackness devoured her.

* * *

_The figure was moving towards the pile of rugs, and the hidden trapdoor. In its hand, the dagger was poised, ready to strike. A small sliver of wood stuck out between two pieces of fabric. Lazily, the man brushed aside the rugs. He bent down and lifted up the trapdoor._

"_Hello, Nivera."_

A scream rent the night. The elf's eyes flew open, her breath coming quick and jagged. She could hear the thunder of horse hooves...

She sat astride a saddle. Then she realised that she wasn't alone. Heavy breathing came from behind her, but the stranger said nothing. The elf sat motionless, fear creeping through her veins and entwining round her heart in a deathly grip. It must be the hunters.

But then...why was she still alive?

Something made no sense.

"Sleep." The voice was quiet.

Her eyelids began to close, and she felt herself sinking into Vaermina's seductive grasp...


	2. Thief's Delight

An unfamiliar smell hung on the air. It was a warm, homely smell – like a stew boiling over a fire. The elf shifted in her sleep. Her face was contorted into a look of agony, but then it gradually faded. Her eyes fluttered open.

She lay in an unfamiliar room. The scent of wood reminded her strongly of Valenwood...but then her thoughts trailed back to her nightmare and she trembled. All of a sudden, she sat up. Where in Oblivion was she? She looked down at herself and saw she was still heavily clad in her tight leather. Her hood was still pulled far over her head, shrouding her face. Good.

Her limbs ached. How long had she been running? She didn't like to think...but then, thinking wasn't something she could do at that moment. Her mind pounded with questions...but there was no one to ask.

The sound of raucous laughter meandered through her ears. Was she in a tavern? The strong odour of mead which followed on the air confirmed that.

Her slight body slid off the bed and stared into the mirror. Yet, it was for nothing; the girl that stared back, hardly visible beneath the hood, was a stranger.

Cautiously, she crept out her room and down the stairs. Even though they were old and worn, she made no noise. Silently, she slid between the crowds that were gathered downstairs, most of whom were shouting rowdily and waving around flagons of ale. She slumped into a seat in front of the bar, where an Argonian female stood wiping a glass, chatting to a customer.

The elf barely contained her gasp. She suddenly knew where she was – Riften! And this...this was the Bee and Barb! Yes! Looking around, she could see familiar faces flash out at her – Mjoll, Aerin, Talen-Jei...

But then she realised that all they saw was a stranger. Just as she did.

"You're awake! I thought I'd have to charge for another night!" The innkeeper, Keerava, exclaimed. The elf blinked slightly, confused.

"How did I get here?" She stammered, glancing over her shoulder nervously.

"I'm...not supposed to say."

The elf could barely suppress a snort. Since when did Keerava, who never failed to stick her scaly nose into everything, not wish to spread gossip? "You mean to say, I was brought here by a complete stranger? Who would do that?"

"Evidently, someone extremely kind and, if I may say, exceedingly handsome." The voice that murmured in her ear was a husky baritone. She nearly leapt out her seat, her heart hammering furiously.

The elf spun round, her eyes settling on a finely-dressed Nord with fiery auburn hair. He gave a small chuckle. "Did I frighten you, lass?"

She exhaled heavily, her pulse steadying. Her gaze locked with his. "You!" She remembered the bright lights that hung over her before all went black...they were his eyes! "Who are you?"

"Actually, lass, I'm more interested in who _you _are. And why you were practically dead in a forest?"

She evaded his question, shifting in her seat. "How did you find me? Why did you bring me here?"

The man chuckled. "This could go on forever."

"Unless one of us gives in." She gave a sly smirk.

"Not me, lass."

"Lass, again."

"Well, I don't know your real name." The Nord grinned.

"Rie." It wasn't the truth, but it wasn't exactly a lie.

"Rie? What kind of elf is called Rie?"

Rie stretched out her long, thin fingers and traced the dark ring of mead coated on the scrubbed wooden bar, left by a tankard some time before. "You asked me my name."

The Nord laughed. "I'm Brynjolf. It's nice to meet you...Rie."

"Well, Brynjolf...I have to be going." Rie slid off the seat (Brynjolf noticed, with a small smile, that her feet hadn't actually been touching the floor.)

"Actually, lass," He got to his feet and made to grab her arm, but stopped himself and lowered it slowly back to his side "I have a bit of a favour to ask of you..."

Rie gave no reply, but she stood still.

"See, I have a job that needs doing, but I need another pair of hands..."

Rie raised an eyebrow, clearing her throat. Brynjolf's eyes widened. "Not in that way!" He laughed heartily. "No, this is strictly business." He looked her up and down, wondering whether he did mean it another way. But that awful armour and hood hid her real appearance. He didn't really have a thing for elves, though.

Her cheeks flushed fiercely as she noticed his gaze, and she was thankful he couldn't see her face. Slowly and uncertainly, she nodded at him to continue.

"Well...I have a, er, certain _score _to settle with another merchant."

"You're a merchant?" She interrupted.

"Is that really important?" He noticed her body tense slightly. Clearly, it was to her. "Yes, I am...of a sort. Anyway, he's..." Brynjolf cast a glance around to see whether Keerava was nearby then leant towards Rie "a Dunmer. Goes by the name Brand-Shei."

Again, he got no answer, but he took the silence to indicate she was still listening. He hurried on. "In his stand at the market, an Argonian named Madesi keeps a very valuable ring. I want you to get that ring and then, er..._give _it to Brand-Shei."

Rie's eyes narrowed. "Anything more that you've _conveniently forgotten _to tell me?" Her tone was icy.

Brynjolf swallowed hard. "Well...I suppose it would be good just to clarify that the guards may not be _too _happy about you breaking into Madesi's stall and then slipping a ring into an innocent man's pocket..."

"Oh, no, really? I thought they went around waving banners saying: 'Go ahead and steal, we don't give a skeever's ass!'" She relished slightly in seeing the Nord do a double-take, before composing himself again.

"Well, yes. Listen, it's only a bit of unfriendly competition. You have to do _something _to get ahead around here. Else you'll end up living in the Warrens. Besides: corruption, lies and deceit is the blood that keeps Riften running. Anyway, you owe me, lass."

Rie drew herself up to her full height, which still only came up to Brynjolf's chin. However, she stepped close enough for him to see her eyes beneath her hood. They blazed and he felt himself recoiling as she seemingly towered over him. "I don't owe you anything. I never asked for you to help me."

She gave him one last, long look of loathing and then stormed off, her head bowed towards the floor. The man stared after her, his eyes huge with shock. What on earth had just happened? One minute, she had been perfectly fine – oddly mute, but still calm. Then, all off a sudden, she had flared up. After a while, a small smile played at the edges of his mouth. She would be a prize for the guild, he was certain. But not a prize for him. He liked her fiery nature, but she was hardly buxom and beautiful, like the women he..._invited _to his room.


	3. The Flagon that was Ragged

"_No!" The Bosmer screamed._

"_I've told you before. Just tell me where she is and I'll leave you unharmed. It would be a shame to damage something so attractive." The man slid beside her and ran his hands across her chest. Tears ran silently down the elf woman's face. _

"_I'll never tell you. You will have to kill me first."_

"_But what is the use in that? I _will_ find her. And I shall kill her. Your death would have been for nothing."_

"_You don't have to do this. I'll pay you whatever he's paying you. More, in fact! Please." Her voice cracked._

"_Hmm..." He held out his hand. Hesitantly, the woman drew out a large handful of coins from her pocket and dropped them, shaking, into his palm. A smile contorted his face. "That was kind of you. Of course, you shall have no use for these when you're dead." And he drove the blade straight through her heart. _

_In a corner of the underground room, almost invisible in the protective hands of the shadows, the baby lay watching the man._

* * *

"Lass, wake up!"

A strong hand was shaking her. Rie awoke with a start, beads of sweat clinging to her brow. She was gasping for breath, the sheets of her bed a tangled mess around her. Above her stood Brynjolf, watching her as one would a patient on their deathbed. He took a sharp breath. "Are you alright?"

Rie tried to sit up, but he pushed her back. "I thought I made it clear I wasn't interested in your offer."

"I didn't come to ask for your help. You were...screaming." His skin was ashen white.

Colour flooded her face. Not again. "Go."

"There was something else..." the Nord continued, but then he stopped, looking down at his feet.

"What?"

"I thought you were suffocating, so I...I loosened the straps on your armour. And..." he stopped speaking.

Rie looked down and saw what was making his speech falter. Her stomach had been exposed and across it, clearly visible against her pale skin, were long, blood red scars. She couldn't meet the eyes that she felt burning into her. For a few moments, she lay in silence. Then, suddenly, she gave a gasp. She wasn't, as she had thought, in the Bee and Barb.

"I'm sorry, lass." Brynjolf whispered as he saw terror fill her eyes. "You were...not sleeping soundly. Keerava asked me to take care of it. There was nothing I could do. You wouldn't wake up. So, I brought you here."

"Where am I?" Her breath caught in her throat.

Brynjolf stood in silence for a long time. Finally, he met her gaze and said heavily. "The Ratway. Welcome to the home of the Thieves Guild."

Her face was blank. Her voice was monotonous as it muttered "You're one of them." It wasn't a question. She didn't make a sound, until he realised her shoulders were trembling slightly. He stared at her in the dim light, and could just see glistening tears running down her face. Her voice shaking, she said "Thank you."

He didn't ask what for. "I've been in this business a long time, Rie. I know how people are feeling, even if they don't want to tell me. But you...you're a closed book. Completely impenetrable. I just thought you'd be better here, where you're not alone." A slight lie hid behind his words, but she didn't seem to notice. "Go to sleep. I have to tell the others that you're awake."

* * *

Two thieves sat at a table. One was an old, balding Breton man, the other a young, white-haired Imperial female. The man gave a small chortle. "Don't fink I've ever seen Brynjolf look that worried before."

The woman rolled her eyes. "Who even was that girl? Hardly looked like one of his..." she cleared her throat significantly "business partners."

Another voice joined theirs. It was quiet and hoarse. "Oh, but she is, Vex. In fact, she is soon to be a business partner of us all."

The woman called Vex gave a small sniff of disproval. "I bet she won't last a day, Brynjolf. Anyway, I haven't got time to sit around playing nurse to little girls. I have to be off. Please, tell her I just can't wait to see her!" With a vindictive laugh, she stalked out of the Ragged Flagon.

The Breton rolled his eyes. "I hope she has a better temper than our Vex."

"Oh, I wouldn't get your hopes up, Delvin." Brynjolf gave a slight chuckle.

"Is she at least attractive?"

"She's an elf."

"Oh." That was all Delvin replied, but it was enough to convey the message.

* * *

Rie tip-toed out of the room she'd been put in, her boots tapping gently against the cold, damp stone floors. Suddenly, she heard voices, and stood still, listening to the conversation. She recognised the strong accent and deep voice of Brynjolf, but not the other man's. He seemed to be missing the sound "th" from his vocabulary. Cautiously, she slipped round the corner and stepped out into what looked like a pub in the middle of the sewers. Brynjolf sat, clad in strange leather armour, as did the other man. The former glanced up as she entered.

"Oh, there you are, lass!" His smile faltered slightly. "I just got word from Mercer...he says 'welcome to the Guild'...he's also given you an assignment."

The other man shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Delvin. Pleasure to meet you, m'dear."

She nodded slightly in his direction. "I'm Rie." That was all she said. Delvin looked at her uncertainly.

"What does Mercer want me to do?" She continued, her body so still that she looked almost like a statue.

"You have to go to Goldenglow, it's an estate out on Lake Honrich. The owner's recently done something to annoy Maven Black-Briar, an extremely important woman in guild terms. You need to get out there and show him not to mess with the Thieves Guild. Don't spill any blood, if you can help it. Mercer wants him alive, if possible. But don't be afraid to defend yourself. This won't be easy. I'm sorry you have to do this."

Rie barely nodded this time. Her posture remained straight and rigid though. Brynjolf realised she was far braver than he'd given her credit for. Or she was just foolishly ignorant of just how difficult this task would be. Either way, he watched her go with a heavy heart.

Delvin gave a low whistle. "Where'd you find her, Bryn? She's more than a bit strange."

Brynjolf didn't reply, taking slow sips from his flagon, his hand shaking.


	4. Blood is the New Black

"She's not coming back, Bryn." Delvin said, watching the Nord glance at the door to the Ragged Flagon every other second.

* * *

"Bryn, stop waiting! It's been a week! She's obviously not coming back." Vex snapped.

* * *

"Two weeks! To think I trusted that bloody girl with this. Brynjolf, this is your fault!" Mercer boiled with rage.

* * *

Try as he might, Vekel, the barman, couldn't get Brynjolf to move from his seat for 16 days straight. The latter refused to budge, staring resolutely at the door. She had to come back. Judging from what he'd seen of her, she could handle a few mercenaries...his thoughts trailed back to the vivid scars slashed across her skin and he shuddered. No. She was coming back.

He had drifted off in his seat when suddenly, shouting filled his ears. He awoke with a start to see Delvin and Vex running towards the door. He sprinted after with them, but what he saw made him almost faint.

Rie barely stood. Her whole body was soaked in a deep crimson liquid which cascaded to the floor around her. Her armour was stained red. She stood clutching her side, where something even worse than blood seemed to be oozing.

Brynjolf pulled her into his arms and dashed to set her down on her bed. Her body was shaking and he watched her eyes roll back into her head. "No!" He yelled, his voice cracking. It was his fault. His fault this tiny little creature was being dragged to her death before his eyes...

Delvin and Vex weren't now the only ones standing behind him, watching through terrified eyes. Almost the entire guild had followed at the sound of commotion, but then he heard a voice say quietly but imperiously "We should leave." Brynjolf didn't know who said it, but his thoughts were fixed solely on the elf before him.

He tore off her blood-drenched armour, revealing the deep gashes that punctured almost all of her body. Blood seemed to be coming from her head too, so he ripped off her hood. He inhaled sharply. She was, though it didn't seem the right word to describe her, beautiful. He'd never seen her properly before, and though her hair was matted and tangled with blood, he felt himself intoxicated by her appearance. Certainly, she wasn't stunningly attractive like Tonilia or Vex, but she had a kind of exquisite beauty that was completely different, yet completely breath-taking. He found himself staring at her for a few moments, before warm liquid spilling over his hands made him realise where he actually was, and more importantly – what was happening to the elf.

Where her hands had been wrapped around her side was the worst of all her wounds. The blood that poured from it wasn't scarlet – it was green. He could smell the repulsive stench of poison. How long had she been bleeding? He didn't even want to think about it. As he ran to find a healing potion, he heard a sound that punctured his heart, one he had heard twice before already – a long, piercing scream. But it was a scream even more excruciating than before. It was a scream of terrible pain. His fingers fumbled as he threw open drawers until finally, he found a gleaming red bottle. As he threw himself back beside her, she started writhing uncontrollably. He tried to pin her down, but she resisted.

He knew he had no choice. He climbed over her, forcing her body to stay still with his arms and legs. He could feel her pushing against him, but he clenched the bottle between his teeth, not able to spare any hands, leaned over her and poured it into her open mouth.

Her body went rigid. For a moment, he feared the worst. Then, slowly, her chest began to rise and fall in a jagged rhythm beneath him. As it began to steady, he heard her give a small sigh and her eyes, which had been wide and staring, slowly closed as she fell into sleep. He made to move, but felt his eyelids tugging shut. He'd barely slept; he'd spent so long waiting for her to return.

Carefully, he slid behind Rie, who had rolled onto her side. He watched her shoulders moving slowly up and down. It was strangely mesmerising. Then he shook himself and, pulling the cover up over her (not wanting her to freeze – he had removed her armour, after all), fell asleep. The last thing Rie felt was him press close up to her before she slipped into sub-consciousness.

* * *

Brynjolf woke before her. At first, he thought he was alone. Then, he felt a small figure cradled between his arms, and he barely contained a yell. At some point - he didn't like to think how - he had ended up putting his arms around Rie. The cover was still wrapped around her like a cocoon, but he could feel heat radiating off her body. Despite the wounds and scars that covered almost all her body, her skin was smooth beneath his touch. She had rolled to face him as she slept, and he once again found himself gazing at her face. His stomach convulsed strangely.

Rie felt him shift slightly, and woke with a start. She'd slept soundlessly, probably for the first time ever. The nightmare that plagued her mind had, for once, not snaked its way in. Her heart thumped wildly as she realised she wasn't wearing anything, and that someone's arms were wrapped around her. Slowly, she opened her eyes a fraction – just enough to make out a head of bright auburn hair. It was Brynjolf. She could see he was awake – his eyes were boring into her face.

He felt her breathing speed up slightly, and worried that she'd wake up and see him. Quickly, but being careful not to jostle her, he extracted his arms from around her slight body and slid off the bed. He looked down, seeing his armour and hands were drenched in blood, but he ignored it.

Rie wanted to wait for him to leave before getting up herself – she felt her pulse speeding up as she thought of how she was wearing nothing but her underwear. But he sat down beside the bed and seemed to be watching her sleep.

In truth, he burned with questions; which he would only get answered if she were awake.

Hesitating, Rie opened her eyes properly and made to sit up. An agonizing pain seared through her as she did so, and she almost collapsed back. But she propped herself up with her arms, trying to pin the cover against her as Brynjolf looked up.

"Don't ever do that to me again." He said. His voice was dead.

"You were the one with your arms around me..." Rie muttered.

Brynjolf's face remained dark. "I wasn't talking about that. I was talking about you turning up here, practically bled out."

She stared down at the bed sheets, which were stained red. "Aringoth left a present for me in his basement – a trap. It sprung as I opened his safe. It all went downhill from there. At first, I managed to sneak in through the sewers without anyone realising. I kept to the shadows and waited until the right moment to move. But you are almost right in thinking these came from the mercenaries. After the trap had been set off, I could barely move. His darts had been coated with poison, which I could feel burning inside me. I tried to escape, but the trap had alerted all the mercenaries that I was there. Before I could get away, they had me cornered. I managed to get away, but they left me almost immobile. I crawled out of there, almost drowning as I swam back. Each day was a struggle. It took me 10 just to get back here. I didn't kill anyone, though."

There was one part of the story that she'd left out. How she'd escaped from the mercenaries. They were bearing down on her, weapons raised, when she did it. Years had passed since she had. But she had no choice. She Shouted.

Brynjolf looked as if he were about to burst with rage. "I told you to defend yourself!"

Rie made no reply, but he saw her bottom lip tremble slightly. He had never realised just how tough she was. Taking a deep breath, he said "I'm sorry. I just...never mind." He didn't feel like getting sentimental.

Rie sat suddenly bolt upright. "The things from Aringoth's safe...the letter!" She looked around frantically, but Brynjolf put his hand on her shoulder.

"It's all right. They're in your bag, I checked. I'll take them to Mercer and you stay right here – don't move."

She rolled her eyes as he walked away, but secretly smiled at how protective he was of her. Goosebumps rose on her skin as she thought of how close they'd been only minutes ago...

Brynjolf returned some time later, and his face was graver than she'd ever seen. He looked like he wanted to cry and punch something, at the same time. "What's wrong?" She whispered as he sat down.

"Mercer. He's furious. I don't suppose you read the letter did you?" At the shake of her head, he sighed heavily. "Someone bought Goldenglow. We don't know who...this isn't good news for the Guild. I don't know what he's planning, but I should go and try to make sure he doesn't include you in any of it."

Before Rie could protest, he got up again and rushed out. A few minutes later, someone entered. She looked up hopefully, only to see the sneering face of Vex. "Looking for lover-boy? He's busy with his nose up Mercer's ass. You have to go and see Maven." Then her expression softened a bit. "Good luck."

Rie almost jumped out of bed, then remembered she was wearing nearly nothing. She waited until Vex was gone then went to put on her armour, but saw it was stained with blood. Recoiling, she searched around for something else to wear. Then she saw that Vex had left something, without her realising, at the foot of the bed. It was a new set of armour, the same as what the rest of the Guild wore. She doubted that Vex had really been the kind soul that thought of it, but she felt grateful all the same.

* * *

Once she was dressed (the outfit luckily came with a hood), she slipped out of the Ratway and out into the bright sunlight of Riften. Wincing slightly, she headed for the Bee and Barb.

Keerava looked up as she walked in. She recognised her from before. Strangely, she thought that she already knew Rie...there was something about her posture...but she couldn't place what it was.

Rie tried to compose herself as she walked up the stairs. She knew Maven would be angry (well, that was an understatement) but hopefully not with her.

"You're late." was the greeting she received. Maven sat tapping her foot against the wooden floorboards.

"Sorry." Rie replied, not sounding it at all. "You wanted to see me?"

Maven's mouth pursed into a thin line at her tone. "Yes. You need to go to Whiterun, to the Bannered Mare. Speak to Mallus Maccius. And don't bother me with any questions. Give them to him, if you must."

"Fine." And Rie left without as much as a farewell.

If she was going to go to Whiterun, what point was there in hanging around? She was used to walking around with wounds – these ones were hardly anything. Besides, if she stayed longer...she would find herself longing to look upon that auburn haired Nord again...and she knew what that feeling would one day become. But she couldn't let it happen again...

* * *

As she stepped out of Riften, a memory hit her – why she had ended up in Riften in the first place. Were they still after her? Surely not...even so, she would have to be highly cautious.

Glancing over her shoulder, Rie handed 20 gold to the carriage driver and sprung onto the back. The carriage swayed and lurched slightly over the uneven terrain, making her stomach turn slightly. Whiterun was a long journey...she felt her eyes slide shut.


	5. The Pied Piper

Brynjolf paced up and down the Ragged Flagon. "Why isn't she back yet?" He asked sharply to Delvin, who shrugged, looking bemused.

"Let's just hope Maven hasn't killed her." Vex's sneer made it seem like she didn't really hope that. "Don't worry, Bryn. I'm sure she can't stay long from her lover-boy."

The Nord whipped his head round, his eyes narrowed. "Shut it, Vex." He snorted inwardly. Lover-boy. He didn't love her. Sure, he liked her...as a friend. He thought she was very brave. He...he admired her! That was it. Yes, he thought she was beautiful...but not in that sense. Yes, he longed to feel her in his arms again, to rid himself of the yearning he felt for her...no, he didn't love her!

"You know, I know something about her that you'd be very interested to hear..." Vex's tone was teasing. She was obviously trying to wind Brynjolf into a rage. "Your little friend is a very big liar."

"What do you mean?"

Vex smiled, and began to speak...

* * *

Whiterun rose in the distance, its great stone walls reminding her of the terror she felt the first time she approached, bringing news of the dragon threat that had appeared in Skyrim...that felt so long ago. But a different wave of terror filled her now. Whiterun was home of the Companions...she had a feeling they wouldn't be too happy to see her...

But she was different now. No one recognised her for who she really was. Just as she had hoped.

The Bannered Mare. She still recognised the smell, different than any other tavern on Tamriel. She looked around for a familiar face – Hulda, Saadia or Ysolda – but there was none. Instead, a strange man stood at the bar. He opened his mouth to speak to Rie, but then stopped as he saw her hood pulled over her face...clearly, she wasn't one for idle chit-chat.

Mallus Maccius was every bit as vile as she had imagined, but at least he didn't keep her long. In fact, he pretty much shoved her out the door with a yell of "GET GOING!"

So...rats. Didn't sound that tough...but somehow, she got the feeling there was more to it than simply poisoning a nest.

Honningbrew Meadery was known for producing a very popular brew in Skyrim – who would have guessed, Honningbrew Mead! The owner, Sabjorn, was a highly petulant Nord, who clearly wasn't pleased at Rie's offer of help. But, with no other options, he accepted.

The underground tunnels reeked of skeevers, but fortunately, it seemed nothing else. Rie was never too hasty, though. She crept through the passages, her ears twitching for a noise other than the scurry of rat feet. Then...she heard it. A human voice. It sounded deranged. Whoever they were, they seemed to be talking to the skeevers, referring to them as "my babies" and how they would soon "take over the world". A madman living with rats? Well, Mallus hadn't mentioned _that_.

She snuck up behind him but then her foot crunched on something very solid – a human skull. The madman spun round, his eyes widening. "What have we here? Dinner for my children?"

Rie backed away, but he sent a spell flying towards her, narrowly missing her head. She dodged out of the way of another fireball that he hurled at her. Clearly, she'd underestimated how powerful he was. Teeth and claws scratched her legs – the rats were obviously hungry. She pulled out her daggers but before she could attack, he sent a lightning bolt soaring at her...and it hit her, squarely in the chest. She doubled over, feeling her insides almost explode. Her wounds, which had nearly healed, tore apart and blood gushed over her. Gasping, she staggered towards the man and plunged her blade straight through his heart. Shaking, she poured the poison onto the nest nearby. Then, pain blinding her, she stumbled towards the exit, but then her knees buckled. Her head was millimetres from the hard ground when a strong pair of arms caught her. Everything burst into light, and then all turned black.

* * *

"_I know you're here, little one. Come here to daddy. Come on, I'll protect you." The man prowled about in the dark, his blade, coated in glistening scarlet blood, still raised._

_The baby tried to make a noise, to call for help, but the only sound that escaped was an indiscernible babble. The man's head turned, like a whip, towards her. _

"_There you are, my dear one. I won't hurt you." He lifted the bundle of blankets into his arms, looking down into the bright eyes beneath him. The baby stared back up at the face hidden by shadows._

"RIE! I'm here, it's all right!"

She was shaking again. Her body flailed like she was being tortured. "NO!" She screeched, her eyes flying open but not seeing anything.

The man that knelt beside her stared at her face, twisted with agony. He grabbed her hand, entwining his short fingers between her long ones. "I won't hurt you."

_The baby was struggling, trying to escape, but her body seemed frozen._

The Nord lifted her up into his arms, cradling her close to him, but she let out a strangled gasp and kicked out, lashing and writhing her way free. He pulled her head against his chest. "Shhh. Please. Don't do this to me."

Then her body went still. Rie felt her eyes opening. Her nose filled with the bitter scent of the Ratways mingling with the sweet aroma of mead. At first, she thought she was in the Ragged Flagon, but then she felt what she believed to be her pillow was moving. It rose and fell, as if someone were breathing.

"Can you hear me, lass?"

She stifled a gasp. She would recognise that voice and that pet name anywhere...but of course, who else would have given off such an intoxicating odour?

"Yes." She whispered, not daring to believe her ears. She thought she would be left there to bleed to death...she doubted Sabjorn would ever have gone looking for her.

Brynjolf set her down on her feet and gave her a long, icy glare. She flinched, unsure what she had done. "How much more did you lie to me about? Why didn't you tell me where you were going, and what really happened at Goldenglow?"

Rie's eyes widened. She took a step back. "What do you mean? I didn't have time to get back to the Guild, I'm sorry. And...what are you talking about? I never lied to you."

He laughed coldly "You're lying now. Vex went to Goldenglow after you came back, and guess what she found? Nothing. That's it. She found nothing. There was no blood, no traps down in the cellar."

Rie remained silent, her eyes glistening slightly. It was only then that Brynjolf saw she was even more beautiful than he'd realised. It made what he was about to say even harder. "I trusted you. You, more than anyone else. Now I know: you can't trust anyone in this profession. We may not be the Dark Brotherhood, but we still stab each other in the back."

Rie recoiled as if he'd slapped her. A single tear slid from her eye and ran down her cheek, leaving a glistening trail behind. She still said nothing. Brynjolf turned away from her, a lump rising in his throat, and he walked out of the tunnel.

Rie stood motionless for a second then she felt her lungs twist and she gasped for air. She fell against the wall beside her, barely able to stand.

Next thing she knew, heavy footsteps came thundering towards her and before she could even move, Brynjolf pushed her up against the wall and pressed his mouth to hers.

She couldn't even breathe. Her mind raced, thoughts blurring together. All she could feel was his hands fierce in her hair, his body burning against hers. She gasped, and he took advantage of this. His tongue slid hungrily into her mouth. Her heart was like a deer in the hunt, pounding against her ribcage. Her legs curled around his waist and he lifted her into the air, pulling her even closer to him. She locked her arms round his neck, not letting any space come between them. His hands explored her body, and he dug his nails into her back as she flicked her tongue against his. Nothing else existed, only him.

When they broke apart, she rested her head against his shoulder. He kissed her forehead then lifted her chin up and kissed her nose, before grazing his teeth against her ear. He ran his lips across her jaw line, stopping just before he reached her mouth. He opened his eyes and locked her gaze. Then, slowly and deliberately, he pulled her face towards his and gently kissed her, letting his eyes slide shut again. After her warm mouth had been against his for so long they both were gasping for air, he withdrew and kissed down her neck, sucking gently at the nape. Her head tilted back slightly and he felt her hips press against him. A burning desire raged somewhere around his navel, but he controlled himself. Gently, he broke away.

Rie gazed up at him, a tiny smile playing on her mouth. He brushed her dark hair out of her eyes and claimed her mouth one last time, before loosening his grip around her. His breath was jagged and uneven, like hers. She slid down to the floor, extracting her arms from his neck. Before she could move, however, he pulled her up into his arms again. His quiet laugh broke the silence. "I don't want to let you go."

She smiled. "You have an odd way of showing that you hate me."

"I don't hate you. I could never hate you. But I fear Mercer may if we don't go now."

"Hang on." Rie shifted slightly in his arms. "Did you really think me so incapable that you came after me? I mean, clearly I am, but thanks for showing how much you believe in me." She chuckled slightly.

"You'd only just finished healing...I don't know why it was you who was sent, you weren't in a fit state."

"I think you're the only one who's actually concerned about my well-being. The others are only concerned about how much money they can make."

"That's not true." Brynjolf didn't sound like he was too sure, though. "Most of them like you...even Vex, though she may not seem to. You managed Goldenglow, not even she could do that."

Rie raised her eyebrows. "I thought you believed I cheated with Goldenglow, or something?"

"If you say you didn't, I believe you." The words sounded sincere enough, but Rie caught the faintest trace of a lie behind them.


	6. A Blade in the Dark

Tell me again...whose idea was it to camp out?" Brynjolf poked the dying embers of the fire with a stick.

"It was mine." Rie replied simply, standing up and brushing down her armour.

"How many more outfits are you going to ruin?" He eyed the streaks of blood on the leather. She ignored him, wiping her hands and dirtying her already filthy trousers. He watched her, smiling slight. "Well...at least we're all alone out here."

"Yeah, no one will hear you snoring." She settled herself beside him, a mischievous grin on her face. He marvelled at how different she looked now – completely carefree, not hidden beneath a mask. Gently, he pulled her onto his lap and ran his fingers through her long, jet black hair. He kissed her forehead and she turned her head to smile at him. He traced her delicate features, but then she saw his eyebrows knit together.

"What's wrong?"

"You're freezing." He took one of her hands in both his and chafed it.

"You say that like it's my fault."

"No, I'm just worried that you're ill..."

"I'm always like this." Her tone was defensive, but he noticed that she shivered slightly. Rolling his eyes, he pulled his thick fur travelling cloak off and wrapped it around her petite body. She smiled, but noticed disconcertingly that it left him with only a thin cloth shirt, against which the muscles of his chest were visibly straining. Colour flooded her face, and he chuckled.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Rie staring into the flickering flames, wondering if now was the right time...

Hesitantly, she began. "Brynjolf?"

"Yeah?"

"I have something I need you to know." She pushed herself off his lap, ignoring his slight grunt of disapproval.

"What is it?" His face fell a little as he noticed her anxious expression. She took a deep breath.

"I get these...these nightmares. Always the same one."

"So that's what that is..."

"Yes. That's why I scream. Because...they feel almost...real. I see a woman, who it seems is my mother, get murdered by this man...I can't see his face. And...I never knew my mum. I always assumed she just abandoned me, along with my father. But...I feel like I know the man. Almost like _he's_ my father. But every time he gets close enough for me to see his face, he slips away..."

"Why were you scared to tell me that? They're only dreams...they're just part of your imagination."

"There are people after me! That's why you found me in the forest..."

"Who are they?"

"I wish I could tell you...but I'm not who you think I am. I can never tell you..."

"Don't you trust me?"

"I once trusted someone. It almost got me killed. Funny how easily love can be destroyed by the idea of money."

"I wouldn't ever do that..."

"How can you say that? You make your living by deceiving and lying to people." The space between them felt like a solid brick wall.

Brynjolf gave her a dirty look. "If that's what you think of me, why are you still here?"

Universes seemed to separate them now. Rie gave him a cold smile. "Maybe I shouldn't be here. Is that what you want? It won't take me long to forget about you. I'm used to being treated like a piece of shit."

He lunged. He threw her against the ground as he launched his crushing weight on her. Before she could react, an ice-cold blade pressed against her throat. "You wouldn't." Her dark amber eyes narrowed as the dagger came dangerously close to tearing her skin.

"You don't know." He growled, his voice trembling.

"Why would you?"

"When have I ever tried to hurt you?"

Silence fell. Slowly, not breaking her gaze from his, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment. Cautiously, she then raised her hand and pushed the blade away from her flesh. Between his fingers she slid the letter.

He unfurled it, pushing himself off her and slumping against the floor. Hands shaking, he read:

_Ton,_

_I don't care that you're with Vekel. I made a huge mistake in leaving you. I can't forget about you. Every time I see you, I just want to feel your body against mine. Every time I look at the elf, all I see is you. You are my one, my only; my beautiful lass._

_Yours forever, Brynjolf_

He barely registered the slight movement before him, but when he looked up...she was gone.


	7. If These Walls Could Talk

Trees and mountains blurred past her. Leaping as if she had wings, her feet hardly skimming the ground, she darted through the Rift's forest. An awful sense of déjà-vu hit her. She'd done this before.

* * *

A scream rent the silent night air. Brynjolf leapt to his feat, the letter plummeting from his grip. He recognised that scream far too well.

"Rie." He whispered, and then ran.

* * *

Rie's eyelids flew open. The ground seemed to be moving beneath her...but why was she looking at the ground? Then she heard the rhythmic pounding of footsteps, and the occasional twig snapping. She tried to move, but something heavy around her midriff clamped her down. Was she being carried? By who? She didn't recognise the stench that whoever it was gave off: a putrid odour of sweat and blood. Whose blood?

...Her blood?

"Nearly there." A voice, deep and thundering, said.

"Good. Boss'll be 'appy with this." Rie thought she recognised the broken-nose sounding voice. Was it...Delvin?

"Happy? He'll be more than happy! Imagine how much coin he'll give us..."

"Yeah, I can buy a new rabbit!" Then the gruff man hastily cleared his throat. "I mean, I can buy a new sword to kill rabbits!"

Rie tried to speak, but it felt as if her heart had crawled into her throat and was repressing her from making a sound.

Suddenly, she heard a door creak open. Everything was plunged into blackness.

"Not much further." The voice trembled slightly.

Without warning, she felt herself thrown forcefully to the floor. She crumpled in a heap, pain festering in her side.

"Sleep tight, scum. Don't let your daddy bite." Roaring with laughter, the two men left with a clang of metal.

Like a bolt, she shot up. What had they just said? No, it couldn't be...they couldn't have found her! She tried to run after the men, but collided hard with impenetrable bars. She raised her fists and hammered against them, her yells echoing through the deserted chamber, but the only reply was the distant jeers of the men.

Knuckles screaming, she slumped onto the tough, freezing floor, a lump constricting her throat.

A thin sliver of light seeped in through the tiny window inlaid in the stone walls. They seemed to be closing in on her.

* * *

"Well, well, Brynjolf. The Boss's been looking for you."

Brynjolf froze. He knew that voice too well. The repugnant stench was also far too familiar. "Where is she?" He demanded.

"Back at the hideout. Why? You miss your little girlfriend? Oh, the Boss knows all about that. You two'll be reunited very soon. In fact, why don't you come with us right now?"

The last thing he saw was a fist growing rapidly before his face, then everything went black.

* * *

_A young girl, with pointed ears sticking through her long black hair, sat huddled in the corner of a dark, cobweb strewn room. The place reeked of mould and decay. A skeever scurried past, leaping for a rotting slice of cheese. She kicked it aside, pulling the last scrap of food she had from its small teeth and raising it to her mouth, but gagged and pushed it away. _

_Blood dripped down her bare stomach, a small knife lying beside her limp body. Pain intertwined with the hunger that gnawed at her insides, but she ignored it. Her father would be home soon...she hoped to be unconscious by then. Somewhere nearby, a door slammed._

* * *

"Some company for you, brat."

Something heavy hit the floor beside Rie. She recoiled slightly. The man flung the cage door shut but she scrambled to her feet, stopping him before he could walk away. "Who are you working for? Are you with them?"

The man only laughed, and nodded at the person behind her. "Ask him."

Hesitantly, she turned. Her stomach dropped. She recognised the auburn hair. "Let him go!" She cried, wheeling back to face her captor.

"You've got what you want, haven't you? You'll be able to die together: the perfect end to your romance. And do you know what'll make it even better? You'll both soon get so hungry that you'll have to eat each other!" With a final chortle, he sauntered away.

Rie stepped away from the bars, her head spinning. She collapsed to her knees beside the auburn-haired Nord, brushing a stray lock of hair off his face. It was her fault that he'd ended up here, left like carrion to rot.

Brynjolf stirred slightly. He opened one eye, looking up into the elf's face. "I'm sorry, lass" He whispered.


	8. Steadfast as Winter

Rie gazed down at him for a long moment... then raised her fist and punched him. There was a satisfying crunch as her knuckles collided with his mouth. Brynjolf gasped, trying to staunch the blood spilling down his chin. "What's wrong with you?"

She slid across to the other side of the cell, her nails digging into her palms. "What's wrong with _me_? I thought I told you to leave me alone. Did you think I really needed you to come and rescue me?"

"Well, lass...you _are_ stuck in a cage right now."

Rie sneered. "And it looks like you are, too: so much for your rescue plan."

He raised his torso off the floor to get a better look at her, but she glared resolutely at the bars above his head. "Rie..." he muttered, his voice cracking slightly. Cautiously, he moved towards her, but she seemed to radiate such a fury that he recoiled.

"I trusted you. Thanks for proving to me that I let my stupidity get the better of me."

"Rie, I never wrote that letter."

"You think I'm going to believe that, coming from you? At least I realised you were using me before I actually fell in l-" she stopped, and in the faint light, Brynjolf could see she'd flushed slightly.

"But, lass, it's too late for me." Tentatively, he raised his hand and brushed it against her cheek. She didn't stop him – she didn't react at all. All she did was stare off over his shoulder. Slowly, he pulled her face to his and pressed his lips against hers.

"NO!" She yelled, kicking him away with surprising force for someone so small. Winded, he fell back, cursing himself for his moment of weakness. "Not again, Brynjolf. Some things are better left buried in the past."

"I didn't think we were the past."

"Well, we're not the present, are we? Don't try and fool yourself. I've been the master of my feelings for a long time. You should try it to."

The sound of footsteps interrupted Brynjolf as he made to speak. An ugly face appeared before their cell, his voice disgruntled. "Boss asks for you both to shut up."

"You can go and tell your boss to fuck himself. And quote me on that." Rie spat.

After the man departed, they sat in silence for a few moments, Brynjolf working up the courage to speak. "You know, lass...I think someone's after you."

"Well done for working that out!" She gave a mirthless shriek of laughter. "Aren't you just a fucking genius? And stop calling me lass."

"Will you just stop biting my ass off every time I speak? And you still haven't told me your real name."

Rie took a deep breath, scraping the sole of her shoe across the floor. After a long pause, she said "There's no point hiding it anymore. If I'm going to die here, someone should know. It's Ariella."

His eyes widened. No. It couldn't be.

Rie watched him put two and two together, and unfortunately, not make five.

"You can't be." He breathed, seeming frozen to the spot with shock.

"But I am. I'm her. I'm the Dragonborn."

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He choked out.

"What, because you've done so much to make me trust you?" Her figure slumped heavily against the bars. "The Dragonborn's been missing from Skyrim for a year now. People stopped looking. Well...most people."

Brynjolf shook his head, unable to comprehend it. "I don't know how I never realised..."

"You hardly expect that the person you meet running for their life is going to be the Dragonborn." Ariella tugged angrily at the straps of her boots, trying to stop her hands shaking.

"Is that who these people are? They're who you were running from?"

"Probably. See, I told you about my dreams...they're not dreams. They're my past; the past that I can't remember. Or more so: tried to forget." Her voice was monotonous; empty. Then she took a deep, shuddering breath. "I did something I shouldn't have. I didn't tell you, but...I found my father. You must have noticed how the Dragonborn just...disappeared...off the face of Mundus. It's because..." her breath hitched. "I killed him."

Brynjolf flinched away from her as if she had burnt him. Ariella bit her lip. "I could never forgive my father for what he did to me." She lifted up her cuirass, where the scars still scorched against her skin. "He starved me, locked me up in that god-forsaken house, living with nothing but skeevers. I just wanted to die. I grew so lonely that I stopped killing the skeevers for food – they were my only company. I went mad in that shack; driven insane by the pain and the hunger that devoured me. He would sometimes come and "visit" me...when I was still conscious, he would spit at me and say how I was a disgrace to his name. Usually, I knocked myself out before he could. But one day...I ran away. Ever since then, he's never stopped looking for me." She looked up at him as she finished, her eyes seeming to beg for his understanding.

He could barely control the worry in his voice as he asked "Who's your father?"

She dropped his gaze. "Kodlak Whitemane."


	9. They Entered the Frey

**A/N (yes, I know these are annoying): sorry for short chapter, next one should hopefully be much longer! **

* * *

His face crumpled in pain, though she couldn't tell why. He took several gasping breaths. "You killed him?"

"Yes. I got a note; I don't know who from...it said that Kodlak was my father." Then her eyes widened and she let out a gasp that seemed to block her throat. "No..." she clutched her hand to her chest then stared wildly around at Brynjolf. "He's not my father, is he? I can't believe I was that stupid. I was just so angry!" She choked back tears. "No...I killed him. Kodlak."

"So _that's_ who you think are after you. The Companions."

Ariella sighed. "Yes...and no. I never pictured them doing something like this." She slowly narrowed her eyes. "Hang on...that man," she gestured vaguely at the entrance to the chamber "said to ask you about what happened..."

"And you think he was telling you the truth?" Brynjolf cut in, a faint trace of annoyance in his voice.

She didn't reply, shifting her weight slightly against the bars. Then, suddenly, she let out a yelp. "Damn it!" She seemed to grope at her backside – Brynjolf watching in utter confusion – then she pulled out a handful of long, pointed black objects. "These were sticking out of my pocket!"

"What are they?" He looked at them gingerly, as if they were some dead animal carcass.

"Lockpicks." Her eyes lit up. Lithely, she darted across to the cell door and thrust the pick into the lock. He hesitated, wondering if he should offer to do it – it was their only hope of escaping, and she might botch it up.

"I really don't think they would be stupid enough to le-" his words were cut short as a click reverberated around the room and, with a deafening groan of metal, the door swung open. Incredulously, he crawled after the elf out of the small opening. "Colour me impressed, lass."

"Stop calling me lass!" But something in her tone made him realise she was actually quite pleased. "You know, it's almost like they deliberately left that door so easy to open!" She laughed, but all Brynjolf could manage in reply was a feeble chuckle.

Scrambling to her feet, Ariella raced for the exit, her heart pounding as she thought longingly of freedom...

"Well, well, if it isn't my darling daughter. Long time, no see." A dark figure loomed out of the shadows before her.

She froze, her blood turning to ice. The figure lifted a torch from a sconce nearby, the light suddenly throwing their features into sharp distinction.

It was...Mercer.


	10. The Hunter Becomes the Hunted

Everything seemed to disappear in a tornado of shock. Ariella felt the ground slip from beneath her, but once again, a pair of arms was there to catch her.

"Alright, Brynjolf, enough of Prince Charming. You've done your bit." Mercer snapped, pulling the girl from the Nord's grasp and gripping her wrist tightly.

She blinked rapidly, her eyes flitting from Brynjolf to Mercer. Then it clicked. "YOU'RE WORKING FOR HIM!"

"Oh, yes, didn't he tell you?" Mercer sneered.

A pain, more overwhelming than any other, ripped through her heart. All this time. Brynjolf turned to look imploringly at Ariella, to explain, but she was staring at the ground, blood visible from beneath her teeth as she bit down on her lip.

"Yes, he's been very valuable. For a while, I thought you weren't going to open up...but then:" he made a popping noise, imitating opening a lid with his hands "I didn't even have to do anything! But I wonder..." Slowly, Mercer moved until he was in front of his daughter. Forcefully, he pulled her chin up so that her eyes met his. "Does it hurt you? To know that his 'rescue' of you in the forest was really just capturing you and bringing you straight into my grasp?"

A small, sadistic smile curved across his mouth as he saw the glint of a tear in her amber eyes. "It does. How touching. You know, you have eyes just like your mother. And, funnily enough, the last thing she ever saw was me – same as you!"

"Shut up!" Ariella yelled, her voice finally erupting with all the rage that boiled inside her. "You killed her."

"And you killed Kodlak. Like father, like daughter."

"That was your fault!" She took a rattling breath. "I don't understand...he never even denied it."

"People will do anything when you threaten them. It's a shame that he told the rest of your, what are they, 'shield-siblings' before it happened – I would have liked to have them on my side." Mercer pulled his sword from its scabbard and ran his finger along the blade.

"You sick bastard!" Ariella tried to punch him with her free hand, but he ducked out of the way and her knuckles collided with the wall behind him. Gasping in agony, she turned back to the smirking Breton.

"You need practise. Not that you'll ever get any, of course. The only trace that's left of your existence on Tamriel is you. Everything else is gone. What a proud father I was when my little girl became the Dragonborn. Even prouder, though, was I, when said Dragonborn disappeared and I realised my time had finally come to strike." He advanced on her like a starving hawk bearing down upon its prey. "So long I've waited to rid myself of you. Can you imagine what people would think if they found out I had a half-elf daughter? Even your mother's father didn't want the disgrace. He asked me to get rid of her – and you."

"Look, please...dad. I've never had any family. We could be one." Her voice cracked as tears spilled over her cheeks.

Mercer let out a howl of laughter. "Me? Want a family? I've spent almost my entire life hunting you; I'm not going to stop now."

"Why didn't you just kill me when I was a baby, save yourself the trouble now?"

"Because I wanted you to suffer like I did." His face was inches from her. She could smell his acrid breath. "I realised I may have been too late when all that Dragonborn shit came about, but then that whole Companions thing happened – with a little nudge from me – and all you became was a thing of history. No more Blades to protect you!" His leer was growing even wider. "And of course, then came the icing on the sweet roll. You walked straight into my hands! All because you were too foolish and weak to see you were being tricked."

"Tell me." He thrust her face to the side, forcing her to look at Brynjolf. "If you could, if I gave you the option – would you kill him?"

Fear seemed to consume Ariella's face. But then, something else came into her eyes: a deep, burning hatred. He'd lied to her, used her and treated her like she was some rodent that was incapable of feeling. Yet...

"No." She whispered.

Mercer tutted, constraining her vision back to him. "Don't say I didn't give you the option. You don't know how much I relished seeing you fall head over heels for Brynjolf, and the whole time he was relaying it all back to me! Of course, I could only watch a kitten chasing string for so long. I got bored eventually, so I wrote that fake letter, which you then 'accidentally' found. It really was too easy! And obviously, you fell for the bait, because now here you are!"

Ariella barely contained a gasp. She could feel Brynjolf's eyes burning into her, but she forced herself to not meet them. She knew what he was thinking.

"Oh, and just to say," Mercer turned to the Nord that had been in her thoughts. "I was rather annoyed to receive the information about her being captured not from you, but from that buffoon, Harald. If I'm not mistaken, Brynjolf, you got a little too into your act. Did you really actually fall for this tramp?" His fingers tightened around his daughter's wrist as he felt her trying to wrench herself free.

"Get off her, Mercer." Brynjolf spoke monotonously. His face was in darkness.

Ariella stopped struggling. After all this, he was trying to protect her? "I don't need you sticking up for me." Her tone was poisonous.

Mercer looked from one to the other of them. "Oh, this is brilliant! Don't worry, dearest Ari, you won't be going up to our maker alone today. I'm not all too happy with your little love-bird. Now, for the real question: which of you wants to go first?"

"I will." Brynjolf stepped forwards. "If you dare touch her, Mercer –"

"You'll what?" Interjected the other man, laughing. "Unfortunately, you'll be dead! But, if it's your wish to go first, I'll be happy to oblige."

"No." Ariella's voice rang out, echoing loudly in the cavernous tunnel. "Only one of us is going to die today Mercer. And it's going to be you. For everything you've done to me." She ripped her arm free from his clench. "Revenge for my mother, for every innocent person you've killed to reach her or me, for all of the Companions, and most importantly – for myself."

Mercer gave a weak laugh. "You don't scare me. I bet you don't even have it in you to kill me."

With a flash of glinting metal, his sword danced in the air, but before it could fall, a great, thundering Shout filled the entire tunnel. "FUS RO DAH!"

The Breton's body flew through the air, limp as a rag doll, landing with a sickening crunch against one of the sloping walls. The Bosmer slowly walked towards him, watching the blood dribble down into his hair from the tear in his scalp. Mercer looked up into the face of his daughter, and saw at last a child he could be proud of – she was fearless.

But then, a deafening crack rent the air, and he felt his bones shatter as her foot crashed down on his ribs.

Ariella spat on his immobile body. "You know one thing I learnt from all those years alone? Skeevers like the smell of blood – especially when they're hungry." A strange, shrill whistle burst from her mouth, and then the scurry of thousands of feet could be heard stampeding up the passage.

Mercer Frey, soaked from head to toe in his own blood, disappeared in a swarm of rabid rats. The last thing his daughter heard was a faint scream before she turned, seized Brynjolf's hand and ran out of the cavern.


	11. I Love the Way You Lie

Sunlight smacked them in the face as they emerged, doubled-over and wheezing. Brynjolf staggered to a halt, wincing against the blinding light. Beside him, Ariella seemed to be choking. He turned to see long, glistening tears spilling clumsily from her eyes. Awkwardly, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her as carefully as if she were made of glass. She slumped slightly, her shoulders heaving.

Slowly, she pulled away from him, her eyelashes spiked and her bright amber eyes bloodshot. Then, before he could react, she raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face. He stumbled back; blood burst from his already split lip.

"You think I wouldn't care that you used me?" She shrieked, her face so contorted with anger it would rival a Hagraven's. "You can't just hug me and pretend it makes everything better!"

"Well, what am I supposed to do? Give me something!" He flared up, on the defensive.

"What makes you think I want to listen to you?"

"Because I never tried to hurt you!"

"Oh, really? Brynjolf, I've had it with you lying to me."

"You want to know the truth? I never asked for this to happen. If I could, I'd take everything back. I should never have taken you that day in the forest. But I saw you, and I realised you must be who Mercer was after – and I wondered what he could want with such a small and harmless thing. Well, that was before I knew you, of course." He flashed a small smile, glancing hopefully at her, but her mouth stayed locked in a thin line.

"I brought you back, like Mercer asked."

"That's not true." She intercepted. "You took me back to the Bee and Barb, first."

He sighed. "I considered not turning you into him. But...I was an idiot, and I let the thought of money cloud my better judgement."

"Did you know? That he..." she swallowed against the lump in her throat "that Mercer was my father?"

Brynjolf hesitated, but this was enough to answer her question. "Yes. I should have realised he hardly wanted you back for a family reunion. I'm sorry. I nearly led you to your death."

"I led myself. I had plenty of opportunity to run away from you. But I didn't." Her voice was so empty; he couldn't tell if she were trying to make him feel better. He certainly didn't.

"I realised what Mercer was doing when he sent you to Goldenglow. Surely you must have noticed something, too – why would he send an initiate on a job that Vex hadn't even been able to complete? You want to know why? Vex never even tried. It wasn't a real heist. Aringoth is just one of Mercer's puppets. Those 'mercenaries' were all being paid by him – more like 'Mercer-naries'."

Ariella listened in silence, her features showing absolutely no emotion. The only thing that gave away her feelings was the steady trickle of water from her eyes.

"You came back almost dead, and it was all I could do not to tell you the truth there and then. I would have, if I hadn't been desperately trying to heal you. Because it was _my_ fault. _My _fault you were almost killed! And then, I realised I felt something for you that I'd never felt before..."

"That's touching, Brynjolf." Ariella spat, her voice suddenly venomous. "How much more shit are you going to come out with before you tell me the truth?"

"This is the truth!" He reached out and grabbed her hands. She flinched and tried to pull away, but he held her fast. "I knew Mercer would be angry – but then I slipped up, again. He offered me more money to try and fool you. And...I accepted. I thought I didn't really care about you, that it would just pass!"

Disgusted, she fought to yank her hands free, but his grip was resilient and crushing. "So you did use me?"

He took a tentative step towards her. "Yes. I'm not going to deny it, because I did."

"For how long?" She hissed.

"I never meant that kiss."

She felt her lungs expel every last gasp of air they had and she felt her body go limp. All that kept her standing was his grasp. "I'm never going to forgive you. I don't care how many times you say you're sorry. How much more of this don't you mean? I bet this apology is just a pile of bull-shit!"

Brynjolf shook his head urgently, his auburn hair drooping across his face. "Ariella, I lo –"

"NO, YOU DON'T LOVE ME!" She screamed. "If you did, you'd never have done this! You wouldn't be here telling me this! Just let me walk away. So I can finally be rid of you."

His hold on her slackened as his jaw dropped slightly. "You do realise who you sound like? You sound like him! Like the man you despise! Like Mercer!"

Ariella gave him one last seething look. "He's not the only man I despise." Then she ripped her hands free and turned, kicking dirt at him as she ran off.

* * *

"Brynjolf." Said a voice. A very familiar voice. He looked down at the ground where faint footprints were etched into the earth. Had he really let her just leave?

"Brynjolf." Repeated the voice, getting louder. "You didn't do a very good job, did you? You were supposed to keep 'er 'ere."

The red-headed Nord turned to see the great, hulking shape of Harald inches from him. "Mercer's dead. You're not touching her." He pulled a bulging coin purse from his sack and threw it at his feet, watching it split and thousands of septims cascade across the floor. One rolled along on its side, bumping gently against his toe before dropping to join its brothers.

"You may not be following his orders, but we are. Don't you remember the plan? You were going to hand 'er over to us once you'd finished 'aving your way with 'er."

"Don't talk about her like she's not got feelings!" He pulled his dagger from its scabbard and held it dangerously close to Harald's bulbous nose. The other man laughed.

"You don't scare me, Brynjolf. How would it feel if I told you that actually, we've already got 'er. You probably shouldn't 'ave let her just run away like that. Come with me, I'll show you what I mean." He wrenched Brynjolf's hands together and bound them impenetrably together. They steadily grew numb as the blood strained to reach his fingers. Plucking his dagger easily from his restrained hands, Harald pocketed it and then roughly pushed Brynjolf forward.


	12. If the Darkness Came Tomorrow

Ariella flung her gaze over her shoulder, striving to hear a sound other than her own frantic heartbeat. She scampered through the endless abyss among the trees, hardly able to see more than the faint path winding on into the unknown. Then, suddenly, she lurched to a stop.

The sight that met her eyes sent a paralyzing shock of fear down her spine. A great, surging fire clawed at the sky, hissing and spitting over the onlookers – these stood, shrouded in billowing black robes, hoods pulled low over their faces. Atop the inferno, a body hung as it was devoured by flames.

One of the robed figures raised their heads. "Ah...dinner is here."

* * *

Brynjolf wrestled against the binds on his wrists, but it was useless. Harald shoved him, forcing him to keep moving. They winded through the trees, every corner bringing no sight of her. But then he stumbled into the clearing and saw...

The elf, a thick arm compressed around her waist, kicked out violently, the firelight illuminating the fear in her eyes as the pyre grew closer. Her screams were barely audible over the deafening crackle the embers made.

Before he could yell, before he could do anything, something black was forced over his head, obscuring his vision. As swiftly as it had appeared, it vanished, until he realised he had been draped in a robe strikingly similar to those of the others around him.

'The others' whose voices now rose in a crescendo - piercing into the night with the tongues of the fire – as a thick rope tightened around Ariella's neck.

* * *

Ariella felt her heart playing an allegro against her bones. The chant filled her ears, drowning out the terrified shouts in her head. Her eyes darted amongst the audience...and fell on him. Even though the hood obscured most of his head, a stray lock of red-hair peeked out beneath the cloth. Her breath caught. No. He was one of them.

Every frantic heartbeat seemed to be counting off the time she had left. The noose around her throat strained, begging to be pulled. Any second, the ground would fly from beneath her...

What would it be like? It was the first time she'd looked straight into the face of death. It was empty. There was nothing.

* * *

"Three..."

The voice rang out. Brynjolf tugged desperately against his bonds, watching her face grow ashen white.

* * *

"Two..."

The cloaked man holding the end of the rope tensed. Waiting.

* * *

"O -"

A thunderous cry rang out as the Nord burst free from his incarceration, swinging his fist round to settle in Harald's jaw. The robed figures surged towards him, but a burning hatred roared in his heart. Wasting no time for pointless weapons, he threw his knuckles into collision with everything in sight, smashing against skulls and ribs mercilessly.

Ariella tore the rope from her neck, hurling her foot into the crotch of the man waiting to hang her. A look of surprise flitted across his face before he keeled over.

Panting, Brynjolf staggered backwards, kicking aside the unconscious bodies. Suddenly, he collided hard against something. Fists flying up, he wheeled around, only to come face to face with Ariella. She was tensed to fight, her hair crackling with anger. But then her chest contracted sharply as she saw him.

They stood, inches apart, breathing heavily. Her ochre eyes bore into his green ones. The elf made a sudden movement. One second, she stood before him; next she had leapt back, her hand clutching the left-side of her chest. Then, with one last fleeting look at the Nord, she turned and sprinted away.


	13. Could I Keep You In My Mind?

That was the last time. She wouldn't run anymore. She was tired of being chased relentlessly by fear; tired of glancing over her shoulder at every sound. There was only one place left...one place she could still call home...

* * *

Brynjolf stepped back. He'd watched her run away one too many times. He couldn't take it anymore. It was finally time to let her go.

* * *

Ariella pulled her hood up as she passed through the great gates, walking the familiar streets with an unfamiliar fear lurking in her heart. Finally, she reached it. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door.

"Well, well...never thought I'd see you again."

She turned to look into the feature she knew so well – those storm grey eyes, ringed by heavy black paint; that dark, unkempt hair falling over his face.

A smile broke across her face as she cried "Farkas!"

* * *

Before she could react, he pulled her into a bear hug. She choked "Let...go...can't...breathe!"

With a deep, booming laugh, he set her down on her feet. His face had cracked into a wide grin, stretching every contour of his mouth. She'd forgotten how much she'd missed him.

"Where the hell have you been?" He asked, in a mock-angry way.

"In the Shivering Isles – it's lovely there, you should come!" She rolled her eyes, massaging her ribs that felt as if he'd cracked them. "How did you know it was me?" She pulled down her hood.

"I've known you for ages – I'd recognise you from a mile away! Even though you've been gone a year. I haven't seen you since Kodlak..." he trailed off, ripping his gaze away from hers. She bit her lip.

"He told you what happened, didn't he?"

"Yes, of course! I mean, I don't blame you." He tried to muster up a smile, but it was more of a grimace. A silence fell between them.

Suddenly, a raucous stampede broke the hush. The doors flew open and a surge of people swarmed in. As one, they all froze when they saw her.

A great rift, completely impenetrable, fell between them. Ariella's eyes met the Nord woman's who stood slightly in front of the others. Aela slowly stepped forward into No Man's Land.

Then, as if some curse was lifted, they erupted into shouts. Ariella felt herself drowned in hugs and yells as the Companions rushed forward to embrace her. She laughed properly for the first time in...ever.

This was how it should feel. How a real family felt when they looked at you. For once, she felt again like the Dragonborn...and realised just how much she ached to be her again.

* * *

Three thieves sat huddled around a table. Not one of them spoke. Brynjolf sat alone, lost in his own thoughts.

* * *

**To be continued...**


	14. Monsters in the End

A rowdy herd of people sat crowded around the table, precariously waving flagons of mead. Little spits of drink sprayed over the throng. Ariella sat wedged so tightly between the twins, Vilkas and Farkas, she felt their bulging biceps were about to pop her out.

Raising her voice above the general din, she asked "What's happened around here since K -" Ariella stopped as the atmosphere immediately tensed. "...since I left?"

Vilkas transiently ran a hand across his eyes, but forced a smile as he answered "Skjor was made Harbinger." He gestured towards the battle-battered Nord, who gave a noncommittal jerk of his head in the elf's direction. She shifted awkwardly in her cramped space, trying hard not to brush against the skin of either of the two men.

"Congratulations." Ariella's mouth turned up only slightly. To be honest, the scarred veteran of the Great War frightened her more than she cared to admit. Skjor, however, gave the first real smile that she'd ever seen on his beaten face, which made her warm a little inside.

Everyone was eager to hear the tale of Ariella's life after the Companions. They had probably envisioned some heroic journey into another afterlife, facing some ill-forgotten evil and purging the land of its malice. Or else some wild and epic adventure across uncharted waters, to a land rarely trodden – rather like the Nerevarine's rumoured journey to Akavir.

However, as Farkas lifted her onto the table, while the others shouted "Speech, speech!" she felt her tale really wasn't what they hoped for. But these people could be trusted...their welcome of her with open arms proved that.

And so she told them...

* * *

Silence had fallen when she ended her story. Njada and Ria were gawping, open mouthed, not realising their tankards were steadily cascading ale into their laps. Vilkas was staring into the fire, a harsh line creasing his forehead. Someone - judging by the slightly gruff tone, it was Farkas - gave a throaty cough, which stirred everyone back to their senses.

Aela tentatively spoke. "So Kodlak has been avenged?"

A faint murmur rippled across the assembly, sounds of disquiet tumbling from every mouth. But the Nord woman rose to her feet.

"Are you going to quake at every mention of his name? Kodlak! We shouldn't fear to speak of him! He was a great man and a wonderful leader. I really don't think this is how he would have liked to go." She gave a chuckle. "In fact, I'd be damned if he wanted anything other than for us to honour a tradition upheld since the time of Ysgramor himself – let us raise a mug! For Kodlak!"

The laugh of appreciation that followed drowned out the noise of the whispers. Ariella proudly lifted her flagon high into the air. A sea of foam rolled from every angle as they all raised their tankards as one. "Kodlak!" The cry rang out.

After the heavy gulping had subsided, and they were all even lighter-headed than before, the wood elf jumped down from her podium, beaming as she said "Yes, Kodlak has been avenged! And let Sovngarde hear of it, for they have a hero in their midst!"

The quiet fell once again. Her grin faded as the swarm of faces before her fell. Vilkas was the only one who moved: he got to his feet and, grabbing her by the elbow, steered her away from the shaken mass.

"What? What did I say?" Ariella asked, glancing back over at Aela and Skjor, both of whom had appearances completely devoid of emotion.

Vilkas sighed deeply. "You know what we are, Ari. You know of our curse. The thing that bars us from Sovngarde – it bars Kodlak, too."

She felt something hot prick her eyes as she remembered. Looking into the creased countenance above her, she saw it, beneath his hard features – the face of the wolf. "I forgot." She whispered.

"I realised." He turned to the rest of the Companions. "I believe it's time we wrapped this party up...we actually need to be able to work in the morning."

A grumble resonated between the walls of Jorrvaskr, mingling with the loud scraping of chairs and the slurping of the last dregs of mead. Once they had departed, Ariella let out a groan. Vilkas, who lingered behind, gave a small smile. "Don't worry – they were all so drunk, they'll forget about it by tomorrow."

Ariella rubbed her palm against her eyes. "Thanks for...all of this." She gestured vaguely around. "I hope I didn't ruin the party."

"Nonsense. It's your party! It's for you to ruin it however you want!"

"And then for poor Tilma to tidy up afterwards!" She jokingly jabbed him in the arm. The pain intended for him deflected back on her finger as it collided with his heavy armour. He raised a thick eyebrow, laughing. "Damn you." She cursed, flexing the aching joints.

"Damn me, huh? What're you going to do about it?" Before she could move, he plucked her from the ground and flung her over his shoulder as easily as if she were a rag doll.

"Hey!" She yelled, hammering her fists against his back as the blood rushed to her head. All that happened was a dull twang as her knuckles hit the metal. Her legs flailed, but Vilkas nonchalantly sauntered down the stairs, ignoring her writhing muscles.

He only let go of her when they reached her old bed, where he threw her carelessly against the mattress. As she made to get up and shout at him, he pressed a finger to his lips, jerking his head to where the others lay sound asleep. Grinning broadly, he shoved her back against the bed and ran off.

She lay down against the sheets, listening to the clanking of his armour slowly dying away. Torvar's snores filled the room. A smile stretched across her face. She was finally home.

* * *

_The horse cantered across the shadowed plains, barely noticing the extra weight on her back – the elf seemed to be light as a feather. The Nord man just hoped that it wouldn't buck them off before they got back to Riften – stolen horses had a habit of doing that. The elf stirred slightly, her head no longer lolling against her shoulder but snapping upright. She sat frozen in the same position, never even turning to lay eyes on her saviour._

"_I have a job that needs doing, but I need another pair of hands." The Nord's mouth was curled into a slight smirk. As the candle illuminated the amber eyes beneath the hood, he saw them widen. A laugh burst from his mouth as what the strange elf thought crossed his mind._

_His body beside hers as she lay bleeding..._

_His mouth on hers, pressed against the wall of the Honningbrew Meadery..._

_His arms around her in the mouth of the tent, before the crackling fire..._

_His lips touching hers briefly in the forsaken cell..._

_His hair falling from the black hood as she looked out over her captors..._

_His body slamming into hers as the foes fell before them..._

_His face, inches from hers, as the last thread between them was cut._

* * *

"Do you think she's having a fit?"

Ariella awoke, the sheets around her soaked in sweat. She pushed her drenched hair from her forehead, giving a start as she saw several faces looming over her.

Vilkas pushed her gently back down as she made to sit up. "Easy, Ari."

"What...what happened?" She asked, though she feared she knew the answer.

"You were screaming." Athis was standing a little way away from her, looking nauseous.

"It wasn't just screaming." Vilkas muttered, his face darkening. "You were...yelling."

Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"Well...you yelled. A lot."

Ariella refrained from rolling her eyes. "What did I say?"

"It was some name, I think. Sounded a bit like Bernjolf...or Bryndolf."

The elf jolted upright, throwing the covers off herself. Her eyes locked with Vilkas'. "Come with me." She whispered.

* * *

"Hang on!" He panted, trying to catch her up as she sprinted out the room, up the stairs, and out of Jorrvaskr itself. As he threw open the doors, he found her stood outside, slumped against a post. As her head lifted up to look at him, he saw tears slipping from her lamp-like eyes. "There was something I didn't tell you."

"What was it?" He stepped towards her cautiously.

She passed a hand quickly across her cheek, wiping away the tell-tale streaks. "I told you about Brynjolf...he was the one who found me."

"And the one who turned you over." Vilkas spat.

"I don't know that. I just...I blamed him because it was easiest." Her voice was thick and shuddering. "But, for a while now, I've had..." she trailed off, mumbling towards her hands, which were wringing together.

"You've had what?" He prompted, tilting her head up to look at him.

"I...I was in love with him. I mean, I think I was! I...I don't know..."

His shoulders rolled back as he stretched himself up to his full height. "And do you still love him?"

"No! I...I don't think so."

His grey eyes bore into her amber ones, noticing them break away occasionally. "Why didn't you mention this before?"

"Because I've learnt I can't trust anyone anymore."

"Anyone? _Anyone?_ The Companions were here for you. When have we – when have I – ever abandoned you?"

"Do you forget what you did, Vilkas?" She moved slightly closer to him, a flicker of sadness passing her face.

"How could I?" He gritted his teeth, staring down at the elf who barely reached his chin. "You think it doesn't torture me every day?"

Ariella didn't reply, moving her hands to her bodice and slowly raising the leather from her stomach. Vilkas turned away sharply as he saw the cuts slashed across her pale skin.

"Hey." She rested a hand against his cheek, turning his face back to hers. "It's okay. I don't blame you. Maybe if I hadn't been stupid enough to fall in l-"

The rest of her sentence was drowned as he pulled her into a crushing kiss. As his steel arms closed around her, his mouth enfolding hers in its familiar way, she couldn't help but smile as she realised she was back where she wanted to be.

* * *

"Bryn, maybe you should go and find some girl...it's been, what, a month?" Delvin asked hesitantly, looking over at the newly instated Guild Master.

"No girl in their right mind would want to come down into this shit-hole." Brynjolf glared around at the place he had once thought of as home.

"Then find one that's not in their right mind!"


	15. The Blessing of Mara

**A/N: A short little chapter because I love you all! Not in that sense...but you know. We are quite good acquaintances.**

* * *

Seconds melted into minutes, minutes into hours...after what seemed like a century, Ariella broke away. She could see her smile mirrored on his face.

"I missed you." He said, taking one of her hands in his and holding it gently.

"I missed you, too. Though...I didn't miss being able to breathe! I swear, between you and Farkas, you will suffocate me!" She grinned, stretching up on her tip-toes and poking his nose.

"So...you forgive me? For what I did?" His face creased with anxiety.

"If it means you'll smile again, then yes." She laid her head against his chest, feeling it rise and fall as he breathed heavily.

"But...I can't always control myself. You don't know just how...mad...you drive me." He grunted, his voice uneven.

"You're not going to do it again. You know how to control it. Look, I love you. It's taken a lot to realise, but I do. And...I don't want to be away from you. So...there's something I have to do."

Vilkas watched her walk away, sunlight dancing on her long, black hair, then reached into his pocket and drew out the crumpled letter.

* * *

Ariella, meanwhile, knew where her path would lead her. It was time to head back to Riften.

* * *

Brynjolf stared out blankly over the hordes of people in the market that day. His mouth just dribbled out the words monotonously; he didn't even realise what he was saying. Every now and then, a fleck of black or a glint of amber would catch his eye and his pulse would accelerate, but it would be nothing.

Then, suddenly, he saw it.

Darting through the throng of eager onlookers was a hooded figure. From the slight gap between their cuirass and greaves, he could see strands of ebony hair poking out. In the feeble sunlight, a pair of fire-bright eyes burned beneath the leather cowl.

It was her.

* * *

He made to run, but her head snapped up and her eyes found him.

Ariella choked back a gasp. He stared at her, something completely unrecognisable in his eyes. She backed away, not dropping his gaze; then turned on her heel and ran up the steps towards the Temple of Mara.

Brynjolf's brow furrowed. Since when had she been religious?

* * *

A few minutes later she emerged, raising a hand to shield herself from the sun which had chosen that moment to burst forth from the clouds, showering Riften in a blinding light. She didn't look back at him as she scurried away from the market and out through the gates. But, as she passed, he caught a glimpse of a chain encircled around her neck. His eyes wandered back to the Temple of Mara...

It wasn't hard to put two and two together.


	16. Pour Poison in my Wounds

The stench of sewage water still tingled in her nose as she arrived back at Jorrvaskr. Her heart was still thumping furiously in her ears as she pictured his face. Why had he looked like that? Like...he hated her?

Vilkas met her return with a kiss, which made her thoughts of _him_ evaporate. When they broke apart, Ariella hesitantly began "I know I haven't been back long, but I think that now's a better time than ever."

"What do you mean?" He stepped back slightly, a wary expression crossing his heavy face.

She reached beneath her bodice and pulled out the Amulet of Mara. He started, his eyes wide. "Ari..."

She shook her head "I don't care that it seems rushed. I finally want to have somewhere that feels like home."

Vilkas brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. "This was left for you earlier." He pulled the crinkled ball of parchment from his pocket and pressed it into her palm.

Her pulse accelerated as she unfurled it. He wouldn't have written to her, would he? She squinted, trying to decipher the untidy scrawl.

_**You gotta come back. Bryn's missing you every day. Please. You belong here.**_

_**Delvin**_

* * *

Vilkas watched her as she read it, seeing something drip down onto the parchment. Quickly, he closed his hand around hers, crunching it up.

Ariella hastily rubbed her eyes and blinked up at him, ignoring the tears that partly obscured her vision. "Short and not really sweet, huh?" She could almost hear the Breton's voice behind the words.

She forced her face into a smile, tucking the letter into her pocket, trying to hide the way her hands shook. "Did you read it?" At his nod, she shrugged. "They'll survive without me."

"Ari..." his gaze drew back to the amulet. "I would marry you in a heartbeat. If it would be a way to make up for what I...did." He glanced fleetingly at her stomach, a look of disgust passing his face. "But..."

"But what?" Her heart clenched painfully.

"You know what makes a Companion, don't you?"

"Sure," She gave a weak laugh "a love of mead."

He smiled. "Well, yes, that. But more importantly: courage."

"Are you asking if I'm scared of commitment?"

"No. I'm asking if you really know what you want. In fact, I'm _telling_ you that you don't know what you want."

She swallowed hard. "I want you. Forever."

"No, you want to run away. You want to be a coward. You've been to Sovngarde and back, you've saved Skyrim from the World Eater...but you're scared of your own heart."

"I'm not a coward!" Her voice cracked.

"You are. A coward runs away from the battle; a Companion runs into the battle. I know which you should be."

"I wish I'd never met him! I just want my life back, how it was before!"

"If you weren't meant to meet, you wouldn't have. Which is why...Ari, I can't marry you."

She bit her lip, the stinging in her eyes mounting. "But...I love you."

"No, you don't. If you loved me, you would never have left me a year ago. We could have once been happy together...but those days are gone. I'm sorry. You've lost me – don't let yourself lose him." He cupped her face in his hand, brushing her tears away with his thumb. "I wish I were the one in your thoughts. But I never will be. Now go. You'll always be welcome here, but this isn't your home."

Ariella stepped away, grief wallowing in the pits of her stomach. She didn't want to leave. But...

A tidal wave of passion washed over her. He _was_ who she wanted; who she loved. She wasn't going to let him slip away. Adrenaline surged in her as she turned on her heel and ran out the door.

* * *

Brynjolf kicked his heel against the leg of the table, ignoring Vex's attempts to talk to him. He stared into the depths of his mug, wishing he were anywhere other than the Ragged Flagon. He wished...what he really wished...was that he was with her.

With a deafening bang, the door burst open. Aroused with curiosity, he looked up...and nearly choked on his mouthful of mead.

Her hood was pulled down, letting her black hair stream behind her as she sprinted towards...

He shoved his chair back as he realised she was making a beeline for him.

Ariella skidded to a halt before the Nord. She cast a nervous glance around at Delvin, Vekel, Tonilia and Vex who were all staring open-mouthed at her.

"You have some nerve showing your face around here." Brynjolf said quietly.

"I never should have left." She chewed her lower lip, trying to look anywhere but at his bright green eyes. "I don't regret the things that I said to you. I still don't trust you...but I want to start to."

"You should have realised that before you assumed I was part of those...monsters. You think I was there to take part in that...ritual or whatever it was? I came to rescue you!"

"You have to see, that's not what it looked like!"

"It's too late. I don't know what I was thinking. You go and run back to your husband." He cast a disgusted look at the Amulet of Mara still around her neck.

Her face flooded with colour and she ripped the chain from her throat. "I'm not getting married. Brynjolf..." she stepped towards him tentatively. "I love you...it's just taken a lot to make me realise. I know you do too, don't even try and deny it!"

His face remained blank. "I did, once...but not anymore. Go."

She staggered back as if he'd slapped her. She gave him one last look of desperation before turning and running out the Flagon, tears cascading over her cheeks. As the door slammed shut behind her, Brynjolf flinched.


	17. Everything is Ending

Her head spun. The raucous laughter of the drunkards in the Bee and Barb contorted into jeers, every face morphing into his. She slammed down her tankard, the untouched liquid slopping onto the wooden bar. Keerava gave her a dirty look, but she ignored it as she swung herself off the stool.

Ariella clutched her head, staggering towards the door. She just wanted to get as far away from Riften...from him...as possible.

As she reached for the handle, the door creaked open.

"Going somewhere?"

* * *

It felt as if she had run off a cliff. Her insides plummeted as she plunged into the endless abyss...

"Leave me alone." was all she could manage.

Brynjolf stepped towards her and she tried to retreat, but his stride was far larger than hers. He cleared the space between them in a flash and Ariella felt herself paralyzed with fear.

The rest of the inn had fallen silent, staring at the familiar Nord and the strange, hooded elf.

His eyes bore into hers, a look of anger distorting his face. She tried to shove past him but he blocked her way. "Let me go! You made it clear that you didn't want me."

"You're right." He said quietly, not dropping her glare.

"Then move!" Rage flared inside her and she raised her fist to punch him straight in his infuriatingly handsome face.

Grabbing her wrist, he raised his free hand and forced the hood off her head.

A gasp erupted from the onlookers. One name resonated from every corner of the room: "Dragonborn!"

Ariella's cry of shock was almost drowned out. Her jaw dropped in horror and she stumbled back, her vision clouding.

Before she could do anything, Brynjolf pulled her against him and pressed his mouth to hers.

* * *

The wrath inside her ignited into a flaming desire. Her fingers tangled in his red hair. His enthralling scent filled her head as she drew him even closer to her. An incredulous laugh escaped her lips as he lifted her off her feet and she felt his mouth pull into a smile. She was there. She was home.

A tumult of applause and deafening cheers filled the tavern, nearly forcing the roof off. The Dovahkiin was back! Mjoll the Lioness clutched her precious Grimsever, remembering how Ariella had once delved into Mzinchaleft just to retrieve it for her. Talen-Jei closed his hand around Keerava's, feeling the Argonian Wedding Band that the Dragonborn had helped create. Everyone stamped against the wooden floorboards as the hero of Skyrim returned before their eyes.

A mile away, a lonesome traveller heard the shouts and started, sure it was someone being attacked. But the Bee and Barb was rejoicing for Sovngarde to hear!

* * *

After forever and a day, Brynjolf and Ariella broke apart. He looked down at the tiny elf's face, turned up to him, to see tears spilling over her cheeks but a beam spread across her face.

"I can't pretend any more, lass. You've flipped my whole world on its ass! And I don't regret it!" She felt a warm tingle run through her at his husky chuckle.

"You're a thief, Brynjolf." She reached up and brushed his hair from his eyes. "And you've stolen my heart."

He grinned broadly and hoisted her high into the air, claiming her mouth once more.

The ovation sailed after them as they ran, hand in hand, from the tavern. There was only one place that they both really wanted to be.

* * *

Brynjolf entered the Ragged Flagon first, closely followed by Ariella. They were both smiling stupidly. The other thieves stared at them in disbelief as they collapsed onto chairs beside one another. Vex and Tonilia exchanged a look of bewilderment – when had this come about?

Any confusion they had they completely forgot about when Brynjolf announced loudly "drinks on me!"

The skeevers in the Ratway squeaked with annoyance at the rowdy celebration that followed, and, by some miracle, they steered clear of the Thieves Guild from then on – taking their stench with them!

* * *

That night, as Ariella collapsed onto her bed, exhausted but grinning, she said to Brynjolf. "Has Delvin ever considered becoming an author? His letter was very good."

His head snapped up and he stared at her in dismay. "I thought he was only joking!"

"Oh, he was serious."

"So that's why you came back..." He perched on the edge of the bed and she sat up, swinging her legs over so she was beside him.

"Well...that and...the fact that I missed you." She blushed furiously as she spoke, looking resolutely at the nails on her hand.

He resisted the smile that fought its way onto his face. "Really, lass?"

She tilted her head to fix him with an exasperated glare. "No, I came back because I hate you!"

He shrugged. "You could have. Hate's not that far from love."

"Who said I loved you?" She asked teasingly.

"You did, remember?" He nudged her with his shoulder. "Look, Rie..." she gave a slightly surprised start as he called her that. "What? I prefer it. Anyway...I'm really sorry. I've been the world's biggest bastard to you...and you deserve so much better than me. I mean, I'm sitting here grumbling some old man...you shouldn't have to listen to that!"

Ariella grasped his hand tightly. "Well, I want to. To be honest, there aren't many men foolish enough to fall in love with a half human, half elf person with the soul of a dragon who's already seen Sovngarde and lived to tell the tale."

"We are a bit of a rarity. And who said I loved you?"

"I was waiting for you to say it."

"What if I don't want to?"

"Well, I'm sure we could...find a way." Her eyes trailed down his body. He raised an eyebrow at her. She responded by gripping his cuirass tightly in her hand and pulling him towards her for a kiss.

Next moment, he had pushed her back against the bed, his body hot as an electric spark against hers. She had already ripped off his armour when he drew back and murmured "You know, lass...I have a job that needs doing, but it needs another pair of hands."

She giggled, heat rising to her face. That was all he wanted to hear before the strain in his loincloth became unbearable. He stole her mouth for one more kiss.

* * *

**Why would you need comforting?**

**I nearly died, alone in the dark**  
**I couldn't open my eyes and it made me think**  
**About what I want**  
**About who I want**

**Everything is ending**  
**I can't believe I didn't see it sooner**  
**I know that this is what I need to do**  
**Even though you haven't got a clue**  
**Everything is changing**  
**I have to keep you by my side tonight**  
**And this must be why you found me**  
**Why you found me.**

* * *

**A/N: And so we come to the end of our journey. Thank you so much for sticking with Rie and Bryn all this time! Hope you liked reading it! The bit above is an extract from the Chameleon Circuit song Everything is Ending, it just seemed to fit!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of this - unfortunately :(**

**Thank you, again!**


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